


if you don't mind, i'll walk that line

by planetcleer



Series: space boyfriends rewritten [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Finn Has a Nightmare, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No TRoS Spoilers, definitely a prequel to a moment's grace, honestly more pre poe and finn, idiocy and unrealized mutual feelings ensue, set in between TLJ and TRoS but follows TRoS canon, that's it that's the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetcleer/pseuds/planetcleer
Summary: “It’s just me, Finn,” Poe lets out a slow breath and relaxes his grip, shifting his balance so he can gently cradle Finn’s face in his palms, “You with me?”Finn nods ever so slightly, wets his parted lips though he’s unable to form words quite yet. “I’m sorry,” he finally croaks out, voice rough. He wishes that he had some water, but he doesn’t want Poe to leave, so he doesn’t ask for any. Instead, he coughs a few times, gaze shifting to sheepishly meet the other’s, “Did I wake you up?”“No,” Poe replies a little too easily, as if he hadn’t just had to physically restrain a sleeping friend in the middle of the night, and says no more.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: space boyfriends rewritten [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579174
Comments: 8
Kudos: 299





	if you don't mind, i'll walk that line

**Author's Note:**

> a prequel to a moment's grace, i s'pose. like i said in the tags, it's set during the year between TLJ and TRoS, when i choose to believe all poe and finn did was fly around on the falcon dancing around their feelings w delicious tension. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

Finn has always had trouble sleeping alone. The lower ranking Stormtroopers’ quarters were nothing more than sleek bunk rooms, and as far back as he can remember, he’s always fallen asleep to the sounds of deep breathing, of snoring, of shuffling blankets, with the comfort of another human presence nearby. Even on D’Qar, while the base was truly huge, sleeping arrangements had been cramped. Not that he had complained, of course. Having someone else nearby has always helped keep away the nightmares. 

In fact, the first time he’s truly left to his own devices, camped out in the middle of Ajan Kloss’ jungle, he nearly wakes up half the base in his terror. Only after he relocates to a tent with Rey is he able to sleep soundly through the night.

So when he has to make a trip off planet with Poe in the Falcon, just the two of them, he’s more than a little nervous. The first night, as he stares up at the ceiling in the darkness, he finds very little comfort knowing Poe is all the way in cockpit across the ship. It’s even worse than the jungle, really, because at least the jungle is never truly quiet, but the ship? Kriff, the ship is _dead silent_ , save for the occasional creak. 

On one hand, he muses to himself, Poe won’t be up all night and said as much himself earlier, that eventually he’ll switch on autopilot and get some sleep, so maybe he can just wait for Poe to come to bed. On the other hand, he’s tired, really, and they’re planning on doing some recon tomorrow, so he _should_ try to rest up. Does he really want to risk the nightmares, though?

Maybe he’ll just wait, it’s not like it’ll be _that_ hard to stay up…

Some time later, Finn wakes screaming. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. His vision swims, and in the darkness above him he sees a white helmet, smeared with blood, mouth gaping and twisting into a terrifying grin. There’s a weight atop him and he bucks against it, legs thrashing. His arms, no matter how much he tries to move them, are trapped. He screams louder.

“—’inn! Finn! Finn, hey, Finn, buddy, please calm down, it’s just me. It’s just _me_ ,” the Stormtrooper is speaking to him and he blinks a few times, clears the sleep and the grit and the dark haze from his eyes, and is finally able to recognize that it’s Poe, chest heaving, straddling his waist, pinning his arms down by the wrist to the mattress. 

“It’s just me, Finn,” Poe lets out a slow breath and relaxes his grip, shifting his balance so he can gently cradle Finn’s face in his palms, “You with me?”

Finn nods ever so slightly, wets his parted lips though he’s unable to form words quite yet. In reply, Poe just strokes his thumbs over his cheekbones, stares down at him for a moment longer, then slowly rolls off of him. He sits beside him instead, criss-cross, and looks at him without pity. When he gets half a mind to be, Finn’s thankful for it.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaks out, voice rough. He wishes that he had some water, but he doesn’t want Poe to leave, so he doesn’t ask for any. Instead, he coughs a few times, gaze shifting to sheepishly meet the other’s, “Did I wake you up?” He isn’t sure which is worse, the thought of actually waking him or the thought that he had been so loud, Poe had heard him from the cockpit. Either way, Finn can feel his cheeks warm with embarrassment. 

“No,” Poe replies a little too easily, as if he hadn’t just had to physically restrain a sleeping friend in the middle of the night, and says no more. Finn can feel his shirt, damp, clinging to his chest. Poe’s shirt looks much the same.

Maybe he isn’t the only one haunted by nightmares.

They stay like that for a long time, just looking into each other’s eyes as they catch their breath, thighs pressed against one another. Eventually, Poe shifts and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Before he makes it very far, Finn calls out, almost strangled, suddenly seized with cold, draining fear, “Poe.”

The other hesitates, glances back over his shoulder, and what Finn wants to say is _please don’t go, don’t leave me here, I can’t be alone, you always make me feel safe, I_ need _you to make me feel safe_. Instead, he clears his throat and asks, “Where are you going?”

Poe turns fully, offers him a smile, all at once private and reverent and warm and honest, “Thought you might want some water.” And then he disappears into the hall.

A minute passes, at most, but it feels like an agonizing eternity to Finn as he scrubs at his face, wipes away the sweat, tries to slow his racing pulse. It’s always the same, every single time, and closing his eyes only further sears the images into his brain—a sea of white helmets; innocent eyes full of fear; blasters flashing in the dark; a lightsaber burning red; screams of terror, screams of suffering, screams of devastation; blood splattered onto sand, onto snow, into the dirt; raw, angry wounds and cold metal and the taste of rust filling his mouth and pain, so much pain, so much he thinks he’s going to die—

“Hey.” 

Poe’s voice comes delicate from the doorway but Finn starts anyway, pushing himself up in bed with his hands, reaching for his blaster on the floor, ready to defend. Upon realizing he isn’t in any danger, he flushes and relaxes his shoulders, “Uh, hey.”

“Sorry,” the corner of Poe’s lips quirks up into an apologetic half-smile as he holds out a canteen, still smudged with dirt following their earlier capers across Dantooine. It feels like days have gone by since then.

Finn accepts the canteen readily and gulps down nearly all of its contents before leaning back against the wall, satisfied. The water, blissfully cold, helps clear his mind. “Thanks,” he breathes the word out like a sigh, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth to catch a few stray drops. He’s awarded a soft hum in response and finds Poe hovering still by his bedside, something unreadable in his expression. 

Poe looks at him. He looks back. Poe shuffles his feet, worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and it takes everything Finn has inside him not to stare at his mouth as he does it. A beat. Then another. Then another still. 

“If you want, I can—” Poe starts. 

“Do you think you could—” Finn begins, at the exact same time.

“Kriff,” Poe laughs—it sounds so much like _home_ all of a sudden that Finn feels instantly lighter—and takes the canteen, laying it down within reach on the floor. As he straightens back up, he rolls his eyes, _fondly_ , and pats Finn’s calf, “C’mon, move over already.”

It comes out almost like an order, causing Finn to snort as he complies. The Falcon’s bunks aren’t very spacious, however, and they awkwardly bump knees and elbows and shoulders for a moment when Poe slides in beside him. As if impatient, Poe huffs, pushes at Finn until he shifts onto his side, only to then hook an arm dangerously close to his waist and drag him closer than he feels like they really _need_ to be.

So close, actually, that he can feel Poe’s breath, warm against his neck, when he speaks, “This okay?” 

Finn is a little distracted by the goosebumps rising all over his body and has to take a moment to process before answering, “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Thank you.”

Again, Poe just hums and rests his forehead against the back of Finn’s head. His breathing is already slow, quiet, calm, and Finn can feel his chest rising against him. Affection has always come easy between them, but lately, even the littlest of touches, the lightest brush of a hand, the quickest pat on the back, will make his stomach... _flutter_. He can’t think of any better way to describe it. 

And Poe—Kriff, Poe is so _generous_ , just gives and gives and gives, never afraid to wear his emotions or his endearments on his sleeve, always so eager to be close to those he cares for, and so _sue him_ if he enjoys it a little too much. Honestly, their intimacy with each other feels like a natural extension of their friendship. They wouldn’t be the same without it.

He must be thinking way too much into it, then. It isn’t like he has much experience with relationships, _any_ type of relationships, so maybe this is just normal. Maybe what he’s feeling is normal. But why doesn’t anyone else cause heat to bloom across his chest? Why doesn’t anyone else send electricity down his spine? Damnit, why is Poe _different_?

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Poe grumbles and Finn stills, convinced for a moment that he’d been literally thinking aloud, but the other man just squeezes him lightly before falling still again, “Go to sleep, Finn.”

A huff of bewildered laughter escapes through Finn’s nose, but he doesn’t ask, just shuts his eyes. He’ll admit he began to feel drowsy the second Poe, exuding comfort and warmth and familiarity in folds, laid beside him, and now he can barely even remember the horrors that woke him in the first place. Before he even gets the first syllable of a slurred ‘g’night’ out, he’s asleep.

He misses the way Poe smiles behind him.


End file.
